In the Dark of the Night
by Nessa Luinwe
Summary: Silk sneaks down the hall and into Liselle's room as usual, but what's his real reason for sharing her bed every night? Hopefully humourous :D


**Author's Note: Wow, my first ever fanfic for David Eddings! I can't believe it's taken me this long, actually. Anyway, I was trawling through the Silk and Liselle fics on here and I was astonished to discover that there weren't actually that many. I adore this couple, and I'm pretty sure everyone else who's read the Belgariad/Malloreon does as well. So I sat down and typed out a few paragraphs to console myself, and then the few paragraphs turned into this :D I have no idea where the idea came from, but here it is, so I hope you enjoy. I don't really think it has any particular slot of time into which it falls during the course of the books, but I suppose you could say during the middle to the end of the Malloreon. Depending on time and enthusiasm, I may continue this further, or just leave it as a oneshot. But either way, here it is :)**

**Disclaimer: *sobs* Unfortunately I do not own Silk, Liselle or anything to do with the Belgariad or the Malloreon. They are the works of the genius that is David Eddings.**

Silk cursed himself as he snuck down the corridor from his room to one further along. Why, he demanded of himself. Why did he have to give in to these ridiculous urges? He ought to know better; he wasn't a fresh-faced youngster anymore. Not that he was exactly a doddering old pensioner either; but these sort of late-night exploits were for young boys and not for Drasnia's most renowned bachelor, Prince Kheldar.

He groaned inwardly as the thought of his real name bought up images of the same person who's room he was about to creep into. _She_ always called him that. Most other people either called him Silk or by one of his many aliases, if they didn't know who he really was. It wasn't as though he was averse to his real name; in fact he rather liked it, but it was just one more way that she seemed to have a hold over him, and he wasn't used to being skilfully mastered in such a way.

All his moody thinking, however, was not enough to stop him from turning the door handle of her room and slipping inside, his years of training as a spy helping him to stay quiet lest he should wake her. Closing the door behind him, he faced the bed and couldn't help but smile.

She was lying on her stomach, wrapped in blankets up to her waist, and the smooth skin of her exposed back glistened in the moonlight shining through a crack in the curtains. Her hair, usually immaculate in the daytime, was now tumbling over her shoulders, the honey-blonde waves tousled and spread across the pillows, where her head rested on top of a slim hand. Her face was turned towards him, and he followed every line of her features with his eyes; the curve of her mouth; the flickering eyelashes; the elegant way in which her nose turned slightly upwards.

She murmured in her sleep, a little childish noise, and his smile grew wider. She was absolutely adorable, and whether he should be visiting her room every night or not was immaterial all of a sudden. Needing to be closer to her, he crossed the room and walked to the other side of the bed, sitting and easing himself under the covers carefully so as not to pull them away from her.

When he moved to lie on his side next to her, she drew in a deep breath and then sighed it out again, stretching and turning towards him. He felt as though he should avert his eyes when her chest became visible as she turned, but really; he'd been coming here every night the past two weeks. He wasn't exactly an innocent bystander any longer, and he was lying in bed with her, for heavens' sake. So instead of turning away, he pulled her towards him gently until her arms rested on his chest and her face was a few inches away from his. She made the childish noise again, like a kitten purring, and snuggled against him, starting to wake up. He kissed her forehead very softly, and a slow smile spread across her face until she drowsily opened her eyes and looked into his.

"Kheldar," she murmured in recognition. "Good evening." She was still half asleep and so didn't see the amusement crossing his face at her incongruous formality.

"Good evening," he returned with a grin, and kissed her forehead again, which she acknowledged with a satisfied noise. "Are you tired?"

"No," she replied as her eyes drooped closed again, and he laughed quietly.

"Go to sleep if you want to, Liselle. I just...." In fact, why had he come? Usually he only visited women's beds for physical satisfaction, but then again such women were usually not as dear to him, not as familiar, not as downright delectable, as this one. If he was honest with himself, it had never just been about physical satisfaction with Liselle. If he was honest with himself... well, he didn't want to be _that_ honest just yet. Still, the idea that he was happy to just lie with her here and watch her sleep proved that he felt more for her beyond gratitude for a good romp.

Suddenly he realised the warmth of her body had gone from his arms, and he looked up to find her leaning on one elbow, her head cocked to the side, studying him with interest and a small smile on her lips. He copied her stance. "What?" he asked her, frowning.

The smile grew, and Liselle laid back down again, drawing the covers over herself. "You didn't finish your sentence," she reminded him, still smiling.

"Ah," he nodded, wondering what he was going to say to finish it. "I was going to say that I just..." He paused.

"Yes?" Liselle coaxed, arching an eyebrow innocently. Then she laughed musically. "It's all right, Kheldar. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I know what's bothering you." She closed her eyes again calmly.

Silk's frown grew deeper, as he looked down at her. He had the feeling that she was going to win somehow in this conversation, and it bothered him that firstly, he didn't know there was anything to win, and secondly, that he didn't know how she was going to achieve it. He hated it when someone got the better of him, and with Liselle it was even worse. He'd never hear the end of it. "Nothing's bothering me," he muttered eventually, knowing it was a pathetic attempt at getting her to drop the conversation.

"It's really nothing to be ashamed of, Kheldar. A lot of men your age still suffer from it," was the comforting response from his adversary.

Silk stared down at her in bewilderment for a moment, and then he noticed she still hadn't opened her eyes. Well, he'd be hanged if he'd let her go back to sleep after saying _that._ "What do you mean; a lot of men my age still suffer from it? Suffer from what?" he demanded rather sharply. A little giggle escaped Liselle, and Silk tried his best not to be moved by it. Blast, did she _have_ to have those dimples, and sound so endearing when she laughed?

She sighed then, and opened her eyes. "I completely understand, Kheldar. You're afraid of the dark."  
"What?!" he spluttered, almost falling out of the bed in his astonishment. "Afraid of the dark?! What on earth are you talking about, Liselle?"

"Like I said, it's natural. When men get older—"

"And what do you mean by that?!"

"—they start to realise they can't do as much as they used to when they were younger; their muscles seize up and they can't fight the big nasties that hide in the dark anymore—"

"_Liselle!!"_

"—so they end up being afraid of the dark," Liselle finished, her face a picture of complete innocence except for her eyes, which were twinkling mischievously. "And sometimes they have to go and hide in someone else's bed until morning... it's perfectly all right, of course. I don't mind. I'll hold your hand until the bad things have gone away," she added, unable to control the grin now spreading across her face.

Silk's expression went from outrage to puzzlement and finally to understanding when he realised she was just teasing him, and he grumbled under his breath and turned on his side with his back to her.

He felt her move closer to him, her soft fingers resting gently on his shoulder. "Kheldar, please don't sulk; it doesn't suit you," she sighed.

"I'm not sulking."  
"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

She sighed again in exasperation, feeling like she was talking to a small child. "Well I'm sorry I teased you, but I couldn't help it; you were clearly never going to finish that sentence."

"So you decided to finish it for me?" he muttered huffily.

"Yes," she answered, and he grumbled again. "Kheldar, it's not my fault if you weren't able to tell me that the only reason you came tonight is because you wanted to be close to me."  
He turned around immediately when she said that, staring at her again. How had she hit the mark so quickly? He hadn't even figured it out himself, and here she was saying it like she'd known it all along.

Liselle smiled slowly. "That's better; I do much prefer the front of your head to the back of it," she murmured.

Silk stayed facing her, but he couldn't resist a little retort. "You called me old."

She laughed helplessly at the petulance in his voice. "I'm sorry for that, but if it makes amends then you're acting like the perfect little boy right now," she pointed out, and he lost the sulky look immediately. Then he looked at her for a moment, seeming to weigh something up in his mind.

"I'm going to have to punish you for this, you know," he said slowly, a little more lightly.

Liselle's eyes lit up and she moved closer to him, trailing her fingers up and down his chest. "Is that a promise?" she asked him, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

Silk closed his eyes, enjoying her touch and the implication of her words, but he only let himself succumb to it for a second before he had grabbed her wrists and turned her over onto her back with him straddling her. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and suggestive.

"It's a guarantee," he murmured, and lowered his head to hers, kissing her passionately. She responded, her arms coming up around him to twine her fingers in his hair and pull him closer with a murmur of approval.

Silk didn't really punish Liselle all that much that night, but it turned out that neither of them really minded. What they got up to instead was far more interesting...


End file.
